The Perks of Voyeurism
by inked-jaeger
Summary: Tomoka, accidentally, walks in on Ryoma and Horio. Doing things. More than once. Wow. Humorous, but not crack. No flames.
1. Chapter 1

She didn't mean to. She really, really didn't mean to. She didn't _want _to. Okay, that was a lie. I mean, Ryoma-sama, in compromising positions? _Yes, please._

No, but Tomoka really didn't mean to walk in on him and his boyfriend doing _intimate_ things. And then _stay _and watch, because that's worse, right? Worse.

But the ultimate worst is probably that she does it multiple times. Unintentional. _Of course._

* * *

The first time is when she breaks away from Sakuno at the tennis courts to do an errand for the coach (she volunteers. Sakuno looks like she could drop from exhaustion any second). Bring some practice rackets for the second-year players from the storage room, and also find Ryoma(-sama), because the brat (brat? As if) is missing, thus late if he ever shows up, as usual.

She skips towards the storage room cheerfully, thinking about how her brat brothers (yeah, they're the real brats, not Ryoma-sama) are away for a week on a school trip, and how everything's going to be peaceful. So that she can calmly blast her Kpop music throughout the house without interference.

Reaching the room, she isn't really inclined to disturb the layers of dirt on the door, so she opens it minimally and slips inside, shutting the door behind her silently. She's _the_ Stealthmaster. Fuck yes.

The room is kind of dark, and Tomoka blinks and stands where she is, getting used to it. There's sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows (because everything here is dusty as hell) and illuminating a few parts of the room. Fuck, it's so cluttered. There's no space to move. Tomoka finds a heap of nets barring her movement straight ahead. So she stays stationary and looks around for a path.

Tomoka spots a bunch of rackets in one lighted section, over at the far corner of the room. Okay. Good. The storage room doesn't have artifical light, so Tomoka would've been paralysed.

Or she _is _paralysed. Because right there, right beside her rackets, is _Ryoma-sama._

Tomoka instantly ducks behind the kinda-large hill of nets.

Wow. Wow. Tomoka's internally screeching. Real subtle undetectable move, Tomo. Let's hope he didn't notice you. Or the large fucking door opening.

Because, surely, he wouldn't want to notice Tomoka, not in the condition he was, hmm?

Tomoka's head rises halfway above the heap, peering slightly.

Wow, Ryoma-sama's skin looks _really really creamy._

And Tomoka's not hitting herself for that, because she's always wanted to see him naked. But not like this!

He's leaning against the wall, letting the sunlight fall on him. He's only wearing his regular jacket. It's hanging off his arms, leaving his shoulders and chest bare. Okay, he's wearing nothing else! Tomoka really wants to leave, run away and pretend this never happened, but she also wants to stay and look at other parts of Ryoma. You know which parts.

But she can't, because Horio's head is hindering her view.

Yeah.

Ryoma-sama's boyfriend. Horio (Tomoka's still rolling her eyes over that one).

What the fuck are they doing? Tomoka rises a little more above the heap. Now she can see clearly. And whoa. She shivers.

Ryoma-sama's face. Fuck. If there exists a perfect _I'm-getting-a-blowjob-and-it's-out-of-this-world _face, Ryoma has it. Does he really have to tilt his head upwards towards the sunlight? Really? He was sexy enough without posing for the cameras (or Tomo, in this instance).

His fingers are buried in Horio's hair. Horio, strangely enough, is fully clothed. That ugly green shirt's bright enough in the minimal light falling there. Tomoka wants to grimace, but she's too busy staring at Ryoma's hip movements, hips gently thrusting into Horio's mouth. She can only guess, because she only sees the back of Horio's head. And Ryoma's fingers pulling at the strands of Horio's hair.

Um. Wow. Yeah. Tomoka grips the nets tightly, unblinking. She'll think about what to do next. Right now she's fucking watching. Or she's watching fucking. Depends on what happens next.

What happens next is that Ryoma _moans._ It sends thrills up Tomoka's spine, it makes her weak. And she's like an entire room-length away. Horio moans in return, only it comes out as a hum. Ryoma bites his lip. "Fuck, Satoshi," he whispers. Yeah, fuck Satoshi, Tomoka thinks.

Ryoma's thrusting doesn't stop. Maybe it gets a little faster.

And Horio can totally fucking take it. He's not gagging. Which either means Horio's suppressed his gag reflex or...

Tomoka's not thinking about the second one, because that's just not possible. Horio stands up, pulling his mouth away from Ryoma-sama and walking backwards to admire him. Ryoma, who'd earlier made a disappointed, beseeching sound, now smirks at him, biting his lip, spreading his legs a little more.

And Tomoka's sure of it. All the sexy humans in the world take notes from Ryoma-sama.

She wants to scream. She can see him. She can see his... _cock. _She can see it. Gorgeous. Glistening. Erect. Even at this distance, she can see precome on it. She's not even slightly abashed that she knows what precome is.

"You're beautiful," Horio says. Tomoka, who had been running her eyes over her god's body, is suddenly brought back to reality. The catch in Horio's voice is perceptible. Like he's sad. Like he's crushed under a burden which he doesn't and does want to remove. And Ryoma apparently knows what it is. "So are you."

"I'm not worthy of you," Horio says, head hanging.

"I don't deserve you." Ryoma steps away from the wall, grabs Horio, pushes him against it, shedding the jacket. "I don't even know what I did that you fell for me. I'm the luckiest person in the world. I love you. I love you so much."

Horio tries not to cry. A sob escapes him anyway. Ryoma kisses him.

He kisses away the tears that fall, and he kisses Horio's red, swollen lips and he puts his tongue where something else of his just was, and Horio's clinging to him like Ryoma's a wisp of air that'll float away, just float away if he doesn't hold him back.

Tomoka keenly feels like she's intruding (she was from the very beginning, of course, but this is a whole new level of emotion). This is the kind of love she understands. The kind of love she wishes to have with someone.

She shouldn't be looking at this. But she keeps looking. She keeps looking at the intimacy, because she can't move, because she's paralysed, remember?

She sees Ryoma's hands moving down Horio's body and suddenly she realizes _she can see Ryoma-sama's ass _and whoa - opportunity (and mental ass) grabbed. Ryoma suddenly gasps as Horio's hands grasp Ryoma's cock and Ryoma palms Horio's through the cloth.

Fuck, Tomoka, look at your life, look at your choices.

Ryoma pulls it out of Horio's shorts and they're now thrusting against each other, letting out sounds that make Tomoka shiver and clench her fists, kissing fervently. "Love you," one of them says. "Love you," the other answers.

Horio's hands enclose Ryoma's as he moves them up

and down

and his mouth opens in a cry as he comes all over them, and Ryoma follows, head on Horio's shoulder. They stay like that for a while. Tomoka contemplates revealing her presence in a fit of mad joy. Ryoma-sama just climaxed.

"You're going to catch a cold, naked like this," Horio says. Ryoma replies, "Yeah, let me stay here for a minute."

"We're late for practice."

"Fuck." And Ryoma has to pull himself away, so forcibly that it's tangible, from Horio, lick his hands clean (Tomoka's mouth falls open at that, and Horio's blushing like crazy) and put his clothes on.

They kiss for a couple of seconds more. "Let's go," Ryoma grabs Horio's hand and starts to lead him out of the storage room. Tomoka is frozen, still with shock. Fuck, they're coming towards her. Fuck. _Fuck._

She crawls into a space between a box full of tennis balls and a curtain of nets, a bit away from the door, just as they reach the heap of nets. Ryoma and Horio leave, open the door and close the door.

Tomoka exhales. She's still shuddering. What the fuck just happened. What.

She hyperventilates for five minutes. And then runs towards the rackets, not thinking about who were just there in that space, grabs them, and, after checking that there's no one outside the storage room, dashes to the courts, towards Coach Ryuuzaki. "Here," she says, panting, extending the rackets to her.

"Tomo-chan, are you okay?" Sakuno asks from beside her grandmother.

Tomoka shoots her a desperate look. How can she fucking tell her? She can't tell _anyone._ And that thought is so painful. She needs to tell _someone _about Ryoma-sama's cream skin. Fuck.

"I'm fine," she replies. "Just tired, I ran from the storage room."

* * *

"Where'd you get the rackets from?" A voice beside Tomoka suddenly asks. Tomoka shoots a couple miles into the air. "Ryoma-sama!" she screams. "You're so cool!"

She had generated a default response to his presence.

"Where'd you get the rackets from?"

"Um, I..." Tomoka trails off. "The storage room," she finishes lamely.

"When did you get them?"

Tomoka pauses. "Before practice started today," she says, hoping against hope for her survival.

Ryoma shoots her a suspicious glance. "Did you see anything in there?"

"Ha - haha, I just saw tennis balls, and rackets and nets and the weird machines that make the white lines. Why, should I have noticed something?"

"No, not really," Ryoma says, before walking off. Tomoka is internally crying with relief. Though she won't be able to meet Horio's eyes ever again.

And that was just the _first time she saw them, damn it._

* * *

Tell me how it was. Please? And did you laugh? If Ryoma/Horio's not your cup of tea, then, well, not much I can do.


	2. Chapter 2

Tomoka might just have the best and the worst luck in the world, ever. Look, she's not even been _near _the storage room after what happened that day, but come on, for it to happen again? Somebody among the divine higher-ups is fucking conspiring against her, she swears.

It's not her fault she gets asked to fetch files from _supposedly _empty rooms. It's not her fault if she wants to be a good student and obey her teachers.

But, maybe it's her fault if she doesn't run out of the classroom the moment she hears them, and instead chooses to hide in the big cabinet at the far end of the classroom, too terrified to show her face to them.

* * *

Not _terrified _like _terrified._ She doesn't get scared. Nope.

Slightly scared when she can hear the door getting locked from the inside.

But Ryoma-sama's been really suspicious, and who knows the lengths he can go to to silence someone?

She cracks open the cabinet doors slightly. It's them, all right. The boys she watched fucking around a fortnight ago. Echizen Ryoma-sama, her god, and Horio Satoshi (locking the classroom doors, what the fuck).

Wait -

No. _No._

The teacher's table? _Why that piece of furniture?_

The only thing visible from the crack in the cabinet doors?

Tomoka wants to laugh madly. How many things had to happen in the world for them to be here like this? If some scientist hadn't sneezed in Antarctica maybe she would've been home by now, and not stuck in a classroom cabinet, suffocating and desperately wanting to (and not wanting to) spy on a tennis prodigy with cream skin, which he is almost about to show, judging by how he takes his shirt off, like it's the best striptease in the world (and for Tomo, it definitely is).

Horio has been pushed onto the table. Sprawled across it, he looks startled to see the look in Ryoma's eyes. Tomoka almost wishes it was her on that table. Almost. But she knows how the two love each other. And dearly wishes they would love each other somewhere else because she wants to _go home_ and not think about Ryoma-sama's _cock_, all right?

But nope. Cream skin has been exposed, and Tomoka's eyes are glued to the opening between the doors.

Horio's breathing quietly, looking at Ryoma, wonderstruck, and obviously aroused. Just - wow. Pitching quite a tent there. Ryoma licks his lips, looking at it. Horio props himself up on his elbows, maintaining eye-contact with his boyfriend. Tomoka squeaks loudly in her mind.

Ryoma moans softly, and runs his hands over his chest, stopping at his nipples. Tomoka's knees go weak. Horio reaches for Ryoma.

"No," Ryoma purrs. Yeah, purrs. Tomoka doesn't want to think about that right now, not when certain fingers are circling certain... _nubs._ "Happy birthday, Satoshi. You don't get to touch me until I say you do."

What the. It was that guy's birthday? Tomoka squints at Horio. Where's her invitation to his birthday party?

"That's a horrible birthday present," Horio says, hand still extended. Ryoma's hands traverse a lot of milk-product skin and go below the hem of his tennis shorts, and he leans forward to take Horio's middle finger into his mouth.

Horio's head falls back in a moan and hits the table. Tomoka smirks. That oughta get him for not inviting her to his party. She refocuses on Ryoma's lips making Horio's finger all... wet.

"Ah," Ryoma gasps. Tomoka can see a hand moving, down there. Fast. Um. Wow. Okay, she is not prepared for this, hey, let's burst out of the cabinet and yell 'Surprise!' like there was supposed to be a surprise party and she's the only one who showed up.

Tomoka goes mad in these sort of moments.

Ryoma is _loud _this time. Yeah. Not that Tomoka's complaining. Nope. Any chance to see Ryoma-sama committing debauchery like _this _(gorgeous, and hot, she can fucking see the steam), she's in (and also not in. She really can't make up her mind).

She does have plenty of time to sit there and contemplate the morality of being a voyeur, but she wants the Ryoma D. Visually, because it, in every sense, belongs to Horio (Tomoka's going to be rolling her eyes over that one into the next decade).

Um, no. Ryoma-sama, please stop being a fucking tease and get it over with already because _hot damn _I want to get out _and off _and go home _and die_.

Horio's done obeying Ryoma's rule, because suddenly he's off the table, and his hands have replaced Ryoma's, and his mouth is covering his boyfriend's and they're kissing like they're never going to see each other again, and do they really have to be this messy and dirty and unabashed and _hot. _Really.

Tomoka wants to think about how Ryoma completely turns into a sex god only for Horio's eyes (because god forbid he show skin in tennis matches on purpose).

Tomoka wants to think about how Horio looks at Ryoma like Ryoma is his air.

But she can't, because suddenly they're getting each other naked and Tomoka's brain overloads, so she closes the door and leans against the back, breathing heavily.

_Look at your fucking life, Tomo, look at your fucking choices, you're closing the door on two boys fucking and one of them's your ultimate crush._

Fuck off, brain, I'm not ready to look at naked Horio.

Though the door has closed, her ears have not, and suddenly their moans are keenly audible. Along with some sounds that cannot possibly be made by mouths. Are they slapping each other?

No, Tomoka thinks. Please fucking don't fuck each other. _Please let me watch._

She sinks to the floor, hating herself. She counts to a hundred, slowly.

Look, she didn't do this on purpose. She didn't know they were going to make this classroom their lovemaking zone. The teacher who asked for the files must be waiting, and waiting. What the fuck, did they really have to come here? Tomoka's barely still. Come on. Just leave already.

The moans grow louder. Tomoka can't help herself. She peeps, reopening the door.

_HOLY MOTHER OF -_

Okay.

_Ohkay._

_Fuck fuck fuck. Uh, one more fuck._

_Yeah um _fuck.

Lazy kissing just got a new definition. And also -

Horio is leaking.

Come.

From.

Tomoka closes her eyes and counts to fifty. Slowly.

When she opens them, Ryoma is licking Horio's cock like ...

_Lolli lolli oh lolli POP_

Fuck you, 2NE1. Tomoka really hates that she listens to Kpop right now. Because that song features none other than BIGBANG, which is totally what has happened here. Wow. Um.

Sex god to the extreme, Ryoma. Now stop and go to tennis practice.

Ryoma-sama is kissing the tip of Horio's cock, licking it, sucking it lightly. Tomoka wants to die. Tomoka feels like shit right now. She should not be watching this. She should be having a mental debate on the ethics of watching this.

But Ryoma's lips, _damn._

So, both Horio and Ryoma are pros at deep-throating. How much practice have they had?

Horio's face is hidden by his hands. Tomoka gives him a once-over because he's also a part of this - it takes two to tango (she believes this particular thing is called the horizontal mambo) - and then shifts her eyes back to the sex god.

He only needs to stare at Horio (who's watching through the gaps in his fingers) once or twice for Horio to come in his mouth. And Ryoma swallows it all. Of course. He, apparently, has a thing for it.

Come. On.

Tomoka closes her eyes. Come on? Is she really reduced to making semen jokes to herself?

She shuts the doors silently again, waiting for them to leave. The school needs to be fucking stricter about who stays back after hours and who doesn't, because this is not done. Okay? She does not want to be privy to lovey-dovey fucking between two of her classmates.

Anymore.

She counts to two hundred. Then, throwing all caution to the wind, bursts out of the cabinet.

Good, they're gone. But the smell remains. Tomoka really didn't want to know what sex smells like. Maybe she did. But not like this. It's like secondhand smoking. More dangerous and cruel to others than doing it yourself.

She finds the files quickly enough. Thankfully they're not on the teacher's table.

The teacher who had asked her to retrieve those files looks at her oddly. "What took you so long?"

"I couldn't find them, ma'am."

"I told you they were in Ishikawa Satsuki's desk, closest to the door."

Tomoka stares at the teacher, willing her to just fucking drop the topic. The teacher drops it. "Well, you may go now."

"Thank you, ma'am."

Tomoka runs home. Well, she tries. She's cornered by Ryoma-sama again, near the school gate.

"You were there, weren't you?"

"Where was I?"

"There, in the classroom."

"What classroom, Ryoma-sama?" Tomoka is not going to tell Ryoma she accidentally spied on him fucking his boyfriend six ways to ...

"Don't act like you know nothing. The cabinet door wasn't opening and closing on its own."

"What cabinet door are you talking about?" Tomoka is in a million pieces right now.

Ryoma glares at her. "Mada mada da ne."

Tomoka grins inspite of herself. She loves it when he says that. "I really don't know what you're talking about, Ryoma-sama."

"Just don't tell anyone."

"I can't tell people things I don't know."

Ryoma snorts. Then walks away.

Tomoka really, really plans on avoiding the both of them for the rest of her life.


	3. Chapter 3

Tomoka has learned that praying often pays off.

Well, she hasn't shut herself into rooms with any unaware pornstar classmates for about three months now. Pornstar classmates, who might or might not have skin that is _very _well maintained, or appendages that keep Tomoka dreaming herself into fantasies that almost always get her into trouble, seeing as the fantasies keep happening in History class.

She does see them, of course, _them _being said pornstar classmates, but Tomoka obviously is the very definition of Professionalism - Ryoma-sama, if he notices, doesn't give a shit, and Horio, the lucky bastard, knows nothing because he usually never fucking does (Tomoka would hit him twice or a thousand times - but she's too busy being envious to hate him)(also she could never really hate him, because under that braggart attitude lies a very insecure boy with a heart of iron forced to rust).

Praying pays off. Tomoka takes a sudden turn towards religion and the benefits of believing in a higher power.

Until one day everyone decides to fuck with her. _Everyone _being the boy she has worshipped since the very first sight of that Fila cap on his head.

Tomoka is minding her own business for once, walking down the school corridors after hours (being a very sincere student and doing yet another errand for a teacher) when a very clichéd and scary thing occurs: a hand shoots out of a classroom and drags her in.

Tomoka has unfortunately not learned martial arts or proper self-defence techniques, so she settles for an elbow in the stomach as she turns around to face her attacker - and the voice that yells out in pain is one which makes her heart drop to her ankles.

"Ryoma-sama! What the actual fuck - "

"Goddammit, Tomoka, the fuck were you thinking - " Ryoma holds onto his stomach, eyes shut.

"The fuck were _you _thinking - "

"Mada mada fucking - "

"Let's get you to the nurse's office - "

"Are you crazy - "

Tomoka flounders about in confusion, fearing for her life. Ryoma, however, stands up straight again, because Seigaku tennis boys are used to Hadokyuus 500 times the power of Tomoka's elbow jab - and says, "I need your help."

"Of course, anything you say."

"Horio and I had a fight, and he's avoiding me - I need you to do something about it."

Tomoka stops short.

"No," she immediately says. "I cannot. Ask of me something else which I may perhaps find not exceedingly taxing upon my mental health to execute."

Ryoma shoots her a dark look. "You're the only one who can do it."

"I know what you're thinking, Ryoma-sama. I can't help you get back together with Horio."

"Look, Osakada - you're the only one who knows what we get up to, and I need you to put us in one of those situations again."

Tomoka puts a hand to her mouth, prepared to do the Oneesan Laugh while denying all help - but gasps and instead says, "What _do _you get up to? I have no clue whatsoever!"

Ryoma blinks at her. "Okay, if we're playing this game."

Tomoka waits.

"Horio and I fuck like rabbits every chance we get, everywhere we can, and I know you saw us in the classroom and that storage room, and we've done all sorts of things before then and since, so I am _asking you politely, _please set us up somewhere we can be alone - he's not prepared to listen to me.

"And," Ryoma tacks on, "If you do this, I'll do anything to you, just for you, do everything you say to you."

Tomoka's mouth is hanging open by the time he's done talking.

This is unbelievable. Who is the person in front of her saying all of this?

Tomoka peers intently at Ryoma. The expression that she's seeing on his face is something that's familiar to her but unfamiliar on him -

"Ryoma-sama is really desperate, isn't he...?" Tomoka breathes quietly.

Ryoma's gaze drops to the floor. "Yeah," he says after a while. "I'm desperate to have him back."

* * *

Tomoka wishes things were different. She really, really wants to hate Horio.

But she really, really can't, because he really is just an insecure lonely boy who thinks he doesn't deserve to be loved.

And this assumption of his character is one hundred percent true because it's been confirmed by the ex-boyfriend. It's the reason they broke up.

Horio has always been on the stupider side of stupid, anyway.

She tries to talk to him during breaks - he's an entirely new person; taciturn, moody, stressed, _rude. _He never accepts her offers of going on walks to relax. He never accompanies her to the tennis storage room when she's sent to get armloads of stuff. Suspicious glances start deterring Tomoka from using those sort of excuses again. Because, maybe, maybe Horio might know about her after all.

* * *

Ryoma isn't himself anymore, and Tomoka feels the jolt in her knees as she resists sliding to the floor, hand pressed to her mouth.

Giving her a show was fucking understating it - he's pulling out all the stops - Tomoka loses her first kiss to a boy desperate enough to cheat on his ex-boyfriend, and it's not romantic, it's rough, feral and miles away from 'chaste'.

Ryoma kisses every inch of her face, returning to her mouth again and again, his tongue brushing against hers every few seconds. He kisses the mole beneath her eye. He kisses her forehead. He licks her lips.

She can feel him pulling out the ends of her shirt from her skirt. Once he succeeds, his hands go underneath the shirt, up to her breasts, caressing very sensitive nipples through lacy fabric, and her back arches without her permission.

There's a place between her legs that feels very, very hot right now, and she can sense Ryoma's leg between her thighs, _sliding between them, rubbing softly and then rubbing hard -_

But _no, no she can't. _She_ won't. _She will _not _let him ruin himself. So she gently pushes Ryoma away, only to see him in tears. Ryoma looks like _he _was the one almost ravaged - swollen lips, red eyes, open shirt - Tomoka feels so guilty she almost starts crying herself.

Stupid fucking Horio. Why hasn't he realized yet how his low self-esteem affects other people?

"I don't really want a show or anything," she mumbles against the hand she's pressed on her mouth. "I just... wish you'd be happy."

Ryoma bites his lip, wipes the saliva off with the back of his hand, and Tomoka isn't even offended.

But she lets Ryoma cover her body with his as he jerks off to Horio's name, and then watches him suck the come off his own fingers as seductively as he can with tears running down his face.

* * *

"Listen, you stupid fuck," Tomoka decides to damn all subtlety to hell. "Don't you fucking make Ryoma go through hell just because you think you don't deserve him."

Horio looks slightly taken aback. Not even fully. And that pisses Tomoka off even more. "I understand why you think that. But after a fucking month of ignoring him, even _I'd _say you need to stop feeling so self-entitled."

"Who says I'm feeling self-entitled? He deserves better," Horio says, eyes downcast.

"I bet you've been cutting yourself, too, haven't you?"

Horio doesn't reply. Tomoka grabs his arm and drags him over to the girls bathroom - pulls him inside, disregarding all protests. She pulls down the hem of her socks - untucks her shirt and pulls it up - hikes up her tights.

White scars line every hidden area. The calves. The thighs. The waist. Horio stares.

"I used to do it, too. And I fucking _loved _the feeling - despair. It's so fucking sweet. I mean - there's some sort of deep fucking satisfaction in thinking that the world hates you, right? That no matter what you do, you'll fuck up and not get any second chances - there's so much _poetry _in depression - some sort of morbid beauty in these fucking scars that'll never go, no matter how much I scrub the skin."

Horio's eyes flit to Tomoka's face, and then back to her calves - he realizes she uses very tight socks.

"But that's a shit feeling in the end. You know what? I felt like the world _owed me _something, because I was depressed. And then I realized I wasn't even sad anymore - I was forcing myself to be, so I could continue to feel that satisfaction. And that's what you're fucking doing - you have no clue how much he loves you - he tries to show you and you keep pushing him away! Nobody gives two shits about how much experience you have in tennis, but you keep bragging about that; and when Ryoma actually values _you, _you have to go and shut yourself up."

Horio blinks.

Tomoka straightens her uniform. Tucks the shirt in again. Pulls up her socks. Adjusts her tights.

"If you really think you don't deserve to be loved, then _get over yourself. _He's been trying to show you the exact opposite of that for so long, and you're throwing him away."

She dramatically walks to the door, stops, and says, "And you're forcing me, the girl who has always loved him, to watch."

She leaves.

Maybe this'll make him go back to Ryoma.

Please let this make him go back to Ryoma.

Tomoka has learned that praying often pays off. So she prays.


End file.
